Planetarium

“Amy, I swear to God, if you don’t slow down…”, Julia huffs out, too tired and scared to finish her threat. She struggles to push herself up onto the crumbling windowpane, her arms giving out each time she attempts the small jump. It occurs to Julia that her own body might be telling her this is probably something she should not be doing. Ultimately, the fear of being alone is even stronger, and she clambers through the cobweb-filled entrance, falling to her knees. 

“Ow,” Julia mutters to herself. Sitting on the dirty ground, Julia cups a hand around her scraped knee. She can hear her heart beating in her ears, and feel it pounding in her injured joint. 

The only thing pulling Julia’s mind away from the fear of tetanus is the unnerving silence since her graceful and totally-legal entrance into the abandoned building. Amy hadn’t shut up once tonight since enacting her “brilliant and spontaneous” break-in plan. In fact, Amy rarely shut up during any moment of any day. But she was especially talkative given her recent expedition to drag Julia along to the deserted museum. 

The room is dark, but Julia’s eyes adjust to the stream of light coming from her place of entry. She takes note of the vines slowly growing over the mural of a bear and its cub. Julia vaguely recognizes the painting underneath the growing plants, recalling a picture she and Amy once took in this very spot during a 5th grade field trip. 

“Amy!”, Julia calls out, sounding just as panicked as she feels. Julia slowly stands and grabs the wall she just entered from, clinging to it like a portal back home. She gives Amy approximately two seconds to respond before calling her name out again, and again. She contemplates leaping back through the window and booking it to their dorm room only a short fifteen-minute walk away. But she reasons with her fear, knowing she can’t leave her best friend of thirteen years stranded in an abandoned, probably- haunted, museum. 

With a deep sigh, Julia slowly steps away from her place of safety and towards the opposite wall. She does her best to ignore the pain shooting down her leg and pulls gently at the leaves covering the painted directions next to the baby bear. Julia makes an educated decision of which direction her friend would run off to. 

Moonlight disappears behind Julia as she makes her way through the animal-themed hallway. Most of the exhibit is vacant besides the occasional empty display box scattered on the floor. “Amy,” Julia strangles out in a hushed and annoyed tone. The eyes of the creatures stare down at her, following her every step through the dark corridors. The only thing keeping Julia sane is the familiarity of her surroundings, and the feeling of adrenaline shooting down her spine. She doesn’t need to tear down any more vines to find her way to the double doors that read “Planetarium.” 

The door is ajar, propped open with a piece of wood with an unknown origin. “Amy,” she whispers, quieter than any time before. She slowly pushes the door open, the large solid frame squeaks on its hinges. The sound makes Julia cringe, but she continues to push the door open to the point where she can slide through the opening.

The planetarium seems to have changed the least since her time here many years ago. A giant white screen casts a reflective light down on the bulbous theater below. The blue cushion seats are tattered and dust-covered. One single seat in the center of the room is reclined to its furthest position. In it sits Amy, staring straight above into the infinite nothingness. She doesn’t even turn her head at Julia as her footsteps echo across the cavernous dome. 

Slipping through the aisle of empty chairs, Julia approaches cautiously. It isn’t until she is standing directly above the lean figure of her friend, does she notice that her eyes are closed shut and tears are streaming down her face. Julia reaches out and wipes a tear falling down Amy’s face. Amy’s eyes shoot open, and she jumps up in her seat. 

She sits up straighter in her chair and looks around. Her confused gaze locks on Julia. “Julia?”

Julia’s own concern allows her to temporarily set aside her frustration. “What’s wrong? You’ve been crying…,” Julia whispers as she slowly sits down in the seat next to Amy. 

Silently, Amy reaches up to touch her own cheek. She swipes it across the wet skin and holds it in front of her eyes. She plays with the water between her thumb and forefingers, looking at it with an unreadable gaze. The longer Amy stares, the more uneasy Julia feels. 

“Amy?”, Julia questions delicately. “What happened? One second you were asking me to follow you through the window, and the next… you were gone. You really freaked me out.”

The trance seems to subside and Amy’s head snaps towards Julia. “Oh god. I’m really sorry Julia. I think I just got a little excited once I made it inside. It’s been so long since we were last here.” She rushes through her sentence a million miles a minute. “And you know how much this place meant to me and my dad. And I uh… just got overwhelmed, I guess.” 

Julia knows the words to be true, but she can’t help but sense something troublesome in Amy’s narrative. “Hey, it’s okay. You know I get it.” Julia reaches over and grabs Amy’s hands. They are surprisingly warm given the coolness of the air, and Amy’s general disposition to run like a small freezer.  “Plus, it gave me the chance to live out all of my wildest, haunted dreams. An actual spooky adventure!” She intertwines their fingers and sets her sights to the display above. 

Amy stays quiet, presumably still in her own head. Julia rubs her thumb along the back of Amy’s hand. They stay silent for a few minutes; the sound of their breathing is the only noise filling the space. 

“I wish we had something to project on the screen,” Julia thinks out loud. 

Amy gently removes her intertwined hand away to reach into her backpack, ravaging through the contents dramatically. 

“You mean like…this?!” She pulls out a small device, covered in glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. She grins cheek to cheek, proudly thrusting the machine into the air. 

“Is that… our old space projector?” Julia laughs in disbelief. 

Amy just smirks and turns on the switch. The top lights up and starts to rotate in her hand. The light is incredibly bright in the dark space; it takes a minute for Julia’s eyes to stop burning and adjust to the sight above her. Faintly, a few stars glimmer above them. The image only covers a tiny portion of the giant screen, and the projector is so old that the light barely penetrates the ceiling. 

“How in the world does that thing still work!?”

“I may have made a few adjustments to it… and by that I mean took apart the entire device and basically created a new one.”

“Glad to see that engineering degree is really coming in handy,” Julia giggles. 

“I am a genius and you love it.”

“You are ridiculous and I love it.”

With a small smile, Amy reaches her hand back out to hold Julia’s cold fingers. She grips her tightly. “I told you it would be worth it.”

Julia rolls her eyes, hating to admit that Amy was always right. They really do have the best times alone together. Julia readjusts her sights to the fictitious sky above. She zones into the miniature star-cladden void. The warmth of Amy’s hand assuages any fears she once had. As Julia’s eyes become heavy, the solar systems collide into a mess of orbs. The celestial lights dance behind her eyelids as she drifts to sleep. 

It feels like only seconds have passed when Julia awakens. Disoriented, she squints and tries to locate the dim spheres on the ceiling. No constellations come into focus. Julia searches for the hand next to her. When no warmth is found, Julia shoots up in her seat to look at the empty space beside her. 

Sitting up slowly from her chair, Julia feels something shake against her foot. The projector rolls back and forth on the ground against Julia’s worn shoe. The whirring of the device and Julia’s increasing heart rate are the only noises in the quiet room. Hesitantly, Julia bends over to pick up Amy’s creation. 

Once again, Julia is alone. However, it feels different this time- less like a thrilling, bold adventure and more like an uneasy, eerie loneliness.

Standing up, Julia grips the projector tightly, the light shining brightly from one end. One measured degree at a time, Julia rotates in a circle, highlighting a small section of the room with a flurry of nebulas. It isn’t until Julia has turned 180 degrees that she illuminates the figure standing at the back of the room. 

Julia should feel relieved to see her missing friend standing amongst the casted stars. However, the sight of Amy makes Julia’s heart race even more. Amy is stoic, not an inch of movement coming from her body or face. Her eyes are cast up straight above, her neck tilted to a strangely animalistic angle.

“Amy?”, Julia manages to croak out. 

With every step closer, the cosmic shapes enlarge across Amy’s still frame. But Amy’s trance stays fixated on the partition above. 

“Amy…”, Julia whispers gently, reaching out to anxiously touch her friend’s arm. Upon contact, Julia gasps at the burning heat of Amy’s skin. 

Instead of jumping out of her hypnotic state, Amy shifts her gaze slowly to Julia. Her eyes are as big as saucers. Julia cannot pinpoint what it is, but the eyes staring back at her are unfamiliar. 

Before Julia can question Amy’s behavior or her own sanity, Amy raises a single finger to her mouth. Her finger lingers against her slightly parted lips for a few seconds. Then, with the same finger, Amy lifts her arm and points towards the sky above. Her eyes follow the finger, casting her gaze to the skies once again. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Julia dreadfully cranks her neck upwards, following Amy’s finger. The white ceiling above seems to churn and undulate in a foreign manner. Julia might have thought it was the handheld projector if it wasn’t for the fact that the light from the device was still cast solely on her spaced-out companion. 

The screen above starts to glow, as if a larger projector is casting an image onto the ceiling. The light becomes brighter and more intense in nature. The light grows to a brightness that Julia can no longer stand; she squeezes her eyes shut as tight as possible. 

And just as quickly as it starts, the light fades away behind her eyelids. When Julia hesitantly restores her sight, the whiteness overhead has been replaced with the dark night sky. Stars and distant planets shimmer above their heads. A light, cold breeze whips against Julia’s face. Her breathing moves in and out of her lungs shallowly and quickly. 

Julia lowers her gaze back to the room. She jumps in place when her friend is no longer at her side, but now face-to-face with her. Amy’s gaze is unreadable as she stares at Julia. Their eyes lock and Julia feels the whirring of the projector stop dead in her hands; the light flickers to nothing. 

A beat of silence. And then the sound of the projector is replaced by a humming noise above their heads. Julia can’t muster the courage to shift her gaze. Her eyes beg Amy to wake up from her trance. 

Instead, Amy cranks her neck towards the sky. Julia watches Amy’s face closely. Shadows shift across her delicate, impassive features. A light reflects in Amy’s irises, growing in size as it moves closer to them both. Amy takes a deep, shuddering breath. Her monotone voice finally speaks. 

“We’re not alone.”